After having a shower, Lena slipped into her soft, satin nightie, the fabric cool against her skin. She tied the robe loosely around her waist and sat by her vanity, dragging a brush through her damp hair. The room smelled faintly of lavender from her shampoo, the scent meant to calm her, but her mind refused to settle.
Her chest still felt heavy from everything Grayson had said.
She let out a shaky breath, her fingers trembling against the brush handle. Just as she set the brush down, another scent caught her attention.
The rich, unmistakable aroma of spaghetti and meatballs.
Lena’s brows knitted together. She stood up, her heart pounding. Was she imagining things?
She cracked her bedroom door open, the smell growing stronger. The savory blend of tomato sauce, garlic, and spices fill
